An Allergic Reaction?
by Gajevyaddict
Summary: My round two standard story for The Houses Competition. Neville's body acts weird whenever Hermione is around. Is he really allergic to her? Is that even possible? Read to find out. Harmless fluff.


**A/N Story for The Houses Competition. House: Badgers Class: DADA Category Standard: Prompt: [speech] "I think I'm allergic to you" W.C. 1428 Yes I know it was Ron whose broom hit him but for purposes of this fic. It doesn't. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing.**

Neville had been avoiding Hermione for a week now. Ever since the instance where she had been so nice to him and helped him find Trevor, his body had been acting weird whenever she was around. He didn't make it frightfully obvious. He was rather shy anyway so if he left the room when she came in no one really thought anything of it. He still felt bad about it though. No one really talked to her at mealtimes. And in class, she was often made fun of. Not just from the other houses but from the Gryffindor kids as well. If he were braver, he thought, he would sit with her. He'd tried it once, at breakfast, but she'd been reading and hadn't noticed him. He hadn't had the courage to disrupt her.

Today they had flying class, and Neville was frightfully nervous. His own family thought he was a squib up until the day he got his Hogwarts letter. He couldn't fly very well. Not at all, really. He didn't like heights. Didn't like the fact that he had to trust his weight, which admittedly he thought was a bit much since he was pudgy, to a small thin stick to hold him up. He wasn't exactly sure what gravity was, he'd been reading about it in a muggle science book he had found. Whatever it was, he understood that it meant that anything that went up in the air was going to come down. He was relatively certain that meant that he would be coming down quite hard. Because when you threw things in the air, the heavier things hit the ground harder, didn't they? Then again, he wasn't quite sure why he was worried about it. He wasn't even sure the broom would even respond to him.

After breakfast and his morning class, he headed out to the flying field. He was still unbearably nervous. He was practically quivering and almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his arm. "Are you scared as well, Neville? I am, I'm terrified of heights. Besides at home, we use these to clean, and they most assuredly do not fly. How do I know if the enchantment is going to stick? What if the enchantment on the broom just stops working?"

Neville wasn't sure what the feelings he was experiencing with her hand on his arm were, or what about Hermione's fear that made him rushing to reassure her but nevertheless he found the words spilling out of his mouth. "Me scared?" He caught himself almost lying and had to bite his tongue, "Well maybe a bit, but that's only because I weigh so much. You hardly weigh anything at all. The broom will have no problem holding you up, Hermione. And don't worry the enchantments have held true for years. I don't think they would let us on them if they were really dangerous. Besides they won't have us going that high up our first day. And you... well you're brilliant, Hermione. I'm sure you won't have any problems."

The small smile Hermione gave him had his stomach in knots. "Thanks, Neville, you know just what to say!" She'd walked away then and picked a broom right next to him. He was so confused about his body's reaction that when the teacher instructed them to call their brooms, he almost hadn't heard her. When he heard Hermione whisper his name and gesture at the broom, he called 'Up' so loudly that the broom actually came up and hit him in the face. The rest of the class laughed at him, and his face slowly turned bright red in embarrassment.

The rest of the class slowly focused back on their brooms, and he felt his face slowly return to normal. That only lasted very briefly however because when the teacher instructed them to push off with their brooms, he did so, only he'd pushed too hard and now the broom was too high and wasn't obeying his commands. It took off on him and he started yelling. He was about to crash into the side of Hogwarts, again, when the broom took a sudden nosedive. Luckily, if you could even call it that, his robe caught on something and held him suspended instead of crashing to the ground. He'd only had a very short moment of relaxation though before he felt his body start to slip out of his robes. He yelled again only to abruptly cut off in a cry of pain as he hit the ground.

Hermione and the teacher were both there instantly. "Come on then Mr. Longbottom it looks like you've broken your wrist." She turned to the rest of the class, "All of you are to remain firmly on the ground. If I see a broom in the air, you will promptly be expelled." She then turned to Hermione, "He'll be alright, Miss Granger, stay here. You seem to be one of the few responsible ones."

Neville couldn't help but immediately agree even through the pain, "I'll be fine, Hermione. She's right, this lot will need you to keep them out of trouble." He even managed a small smile to reassure her. The look she gave him in return made his breath catch. She looked so happy at that moment.

He'd heard about what had happened later on that day with Harry and how he'd gotten his remembrall back for him. He'd, of course, thanked him but he couldn't help but agree with Hermione. It had been stupid, he could have been killed. All for an, admittedly helpful, piece of plastic. He didn't say that though. But Hermione must have noticed the look he gave Harry before he could hide it because she had smiled at him again. This time he felt his heart speed up. He wasn't sure what was going on with his body.

After that day he'd been even more actively avoiding her. He felt awful because she seemed so much sadder now that even he wasn't talking to her. He just couldn't help it though. The only conclusion he could come up with for why his body was reacting the way it did made no sense. The avoidance, however, came to a head when he'd walked into the library only to find her sitting at one of the tables crying. He'd tried to turn around without her noticing him, but it was too late.

Hermione sniffled as she caught sight of Neville, "So you hate me now too I suppose? I don't know why I'm surprised, everyone else does. You seemed so much nicer, though. You were the only one who talked to me, you know. But now even you've stopped. I don't try to be a know-it-all, well I do, but I don't do it to be a show-off. Magic is just so fascinating. I want to know everything about it!" She'd barely gotten the last words out before promptly bursting into tears again.

Neville stopped in his tracks and rushed over to her. "I don't hate you Hermione, honest." She gave him a look that clearly stated she didn't believe him. "I just... look...I..." He cut off, unable to actually get out the words he wanted to say. He blushed bright red and finally just decided to blurt it out. "I think I'm allergic to you!"

Hermione's jaw dropped and she stopped crying. "What?"

Neville turned even redder, he was sure his whole body must be red at this point. "Er well... whenever you smile at me, or put your hand on my shoulder, or talk to me my body does weird stuff." Hermione made a continue on motion with her hands. "Well sometimes my heart speeds up, my breath catches, or it becomes hard to think. Sometimes my stomach goes all wibbly-wobbly. I don't know what it means and the only conclusion I could come up with is that I'm allergic to you."

Hermione started giggling. Neville hid his face in his hands. Madam Pince, the librarian, came up behind them and shushed them both, however despite her strict demeanor, she looked almost fondly down at Hermione. "You aren't allergic to her you daft boy. You like her! Now be quiet or get out of my library!"

Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the library still giggling. When they were finally outside, she kissed him on the cheek. "It's ok Neville, I like you too," and with that, she pulled him towards the common room to study.


End file.
